Songs | Chelsea Lane Campbell
A dimly lit auditorium-
manufactured moonlight.
A solo black piano, center stage,
my languid body draped over,
and your fingers striking cords-
the same cords strike me.
Every note, pulling together,
painting emotions, feeling colors.
The breaths I pull in to mumble
along with your lips' oo’s and ah’s
feel more like water than air-
thick, heavy, slowing everything
but I don't mind.
Somehow, adorning a piano
at three in the morning
begs for songs in slow motion.
manufactured moonlight.
A solo black piano, center stage,
my languid body draped over,
and your fingers striking cords-
the same cords strike me.
Every note, pulling together,
painting emotions, feeling colors.
The breaths I pull in to mumble
along with your lips' oo’s and ah’s
feel more like water than air-
thick, heavy, slowing everything
but I don't mind.
Somehow, adorning a piano
at three in the morning
begs for songs in slow motion.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home